Sunday, August 7

Fiery Fun

My friend M lives in a small, sleepy New England town. One of those places that if you blink you might miss; that is unless you drive through it the last Saturday of July. It is on this date that the town hosts it's yearly Firetruck Parade. Towns from all over the state, and even some from out of state, show up to drive and march down the main drag. The trucks, new and old, are polished to the point of seeing your reflection in them, their tires glisten, and they are decked out with flowers, ceremonial axes and hatchets, 9-11 memorials and the like. The firefighters typically wear their dress uniforms and march with pride; all while throwing candy at the kids that eagerly line the streets. The evening is capped off with a carnival (that runs a few days before hand as well) and fireworks. All of this to benefit the fire department, which is volunteer.

M lives a short walk from the beginning of the parade route, and for the last 5 years, we have had the pleasure of joining her and her family for a cook-out (or pizza) and then a trip to the parade and fair. Turkey is best and oldest friends with her oldest son, E. And looking back on the pictures it's amazing to see how the boys have grown, including M's youngest son who was an infant the first year we went.

This was Monkey's first year going, and while the truck sirens startled him, he did well; only really crying during the seven gun salute at the start of the parade (I think it scared all of us).

I remember the first years, when M and I used to have to go on the rides with the boys. Now they are happy to go on without us, or even alone.